


where is he? (doubt comes in)

by TheThirdTemptationOfParis



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Jon's POV, M/M, MAG 170, The Lonely - Freeform, based on fanart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:21:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24671494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheThirdTemptationOfParis/pseuds/TheThirdTemptationOfParis
Summary: The house was so cold, well below zero, and the fog that rolled in the open windows shrouded the features of the sprawling room and steep stairs that didn’t seem to end. The fog caressed Jon’s hands as they hung limp at his sides, simultaneously comforting and unsettling him.He gazed up the stairs, his eyes still not able to find the top, “Hmm… strange. I can’t get a feel for this place. It’s muffled somehow… foggy.” He reached back, searching blindly for Martin’s hand, “Best to stay close until I figure out what’s going—“ the ‘on’ died on Jon’s lips as he turned around. Martin was gone. Martin wasgone.Based onthis comicby mod2amaryllis on tumblr.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 9
Kudos: 97





	where is he? (doubt comes in)

The house was so cold, well below zero, and the fog that rolled in the open windows shrouded the features of the sprawling room and steep stairs that didn’t seem to end. The fog caressed Jon’s hands as they hung limp at his sides, simultaneously comforting and unsettling him. 

He gazed up the stairs, his eyes still not able to find the top, “Hmm… strange. I can’t get a feel for this place. It’s muffled somehow… foggy.” He reached back, searching blindly for Martin’s hand, “Best to stay close until I figure out what’s going—“ the ‘on’ died on Jon’s lips as he turned around. Martin was gone. Martin was _gone_.

“Martin? MARTIN!” He whipped around, launching himself up the impossibly steep steps that seemed to end way too soon, “Where are you? Martin? I can’t find you… Shit, Martin…” 

Jon stopped, his arms spread wide, hands gripping the door jamb of a nearly identical room to the one downstairs. He took deep breaths, steadying his heart and lungs, “I have to look. I have to find him. I _can_ find him, just… not the way that would be easiest.” 

He kept breathing, eyes closed, shoulder leaning hard on the door frame. Before he could even realize what was happening, his mouth started speaking, weaving a story of the domain he was in, “There was once a who had always been alone. Cold tendrils of mist and misery clung to him, year after year after year. He never understood why for as much as helped, tried, _loved_ , no one would ever, _could ever_ , love him back. Not even the one he loved most.”

Jon was dimly aware in the part of his brain that wasn’t occupied by the Eye, the one that was only ever focused on Martin, screamed for his mouth to stop, to not do this to Martin, never to Martin, but he couldn’t stop, “The one he loved since the day he saw him. The one who wouldn’t give him the time of day for the better part of a year. Me. I’m the one who wouldn’t thank him, love him back, or realize I did until I almost lost him. Lost him to the Lonely.” 

Jon snapped to attention, his hand flying to cover his mouth. _The Lonely. The fog, the stairs, the repeating rooms, the unsettling sense of comfort. I brought Martin into the Lonely before fully assessing the situation. I brought him back into his domain._

“I’m never going to find him. My Martin…”

He had almost resigned himself to the fact, that Martin he wandered his way back into the grips of the Lonely, left Jon even more alone than he had been when they’d met. Until he felt it, a tugging in some deep corner of his mind, a fact that he wasn’t supposed to know, but he could still hear it. He wasn’t Looking, he wouldn’t do that to Martin. But it was there.

 _I don’t like me sometimes, and I_ am _me._

“Martin!” Jon moved toward the direction he thought the voice was coming from, just as he had done before, but it faded, not quite close enough to follow.

_...doodling his name on my desk or anything, heh. His um… his… his name. What is his name?_

“He doesn’t… he doesn’t remember. This is what the Lonely really is? Comfort in not knowing? Comfort in not knowing _alone_?” He shook his head, kept walking, catching Martin’s voice as he went.

 _It_ is _just me isn’t it? No… no there’s… there’s Jon. Jon? JON?! I’m here, Jon I_ need _you! Where… where did you go?_

Jon called out, hoping to reach the frantic ears, the frantic thoughts of Martin. His Martin. But it didn’t work. This place, this godforsaken house that smelled like cobwebs and old board books— 

No.

This place is not that. 

_I can’t do this on my own. Please, I’m not enough on my own…_

_I-I_ know _she loves me, I know she does…_

_Sometimes I wonder if I forget things on purpose…_

_Her face… I don’t remember her face… Did— did she have a face? No, of course she had a face, but you can’t remember because you’re a bad son… left her to rot in—_

_Sasha… no, not Sasha, the thing that took her, telling me I was alone…_

_And then I met Jon. Jon? JON! I think I’m lost, I don’t…_

“Martin! Martin, keep talking! I can hear you, dear heart, just _please_ keep talking. I’ll find you. Just keep talking.”

 _I’m losing myself and I… I don’t know if I mind? Maybe I deserve it. So much of what’s behind the fog_ hurts… _Maybe the fog’s here because I want it here._

And then at last he hears it, loud, clear, and strong, possibly just the next room over. He’s speaking so quick Jon almost can’t discern what he’s saying.

“You— you are Martin Blackwood. Yes. You didn’t choose to be here. Jon is coming. I am _Martin Blackwood_ and I am _not_ lonely anymore. I am _not_ lonely anymore.I want to have friends, no, I have friends. I… I’m in love. I am in love and I will not forget that. I _will not_ forget. I am Martin Black—”

He stops short as Jon barrels into the room, “Martin! Oh, Martin, thank god, I thought—” and then he’s in Martin’s arms and he doesn’t want to finish his sentence because he found him. He found Martin, “I thought you were right behind me.”

Martin tucks his face into the dip of Jon’s shoulder, one hand coming up to grip the loose tendrils of his hair, breathing in, “I thought you’d left me behind. Gone one without me.”

“No, never. Never. I just didn’t want to… Look too hard because… I promised, and this place, it um… the fog… and I lost you. I’m sorry..”

“It’s okay,” Martin sighs, and he sounds sure. So Jon believes him.

“I tried to Know where you were but you were faint. I could barely hear you. It took me so long to find you.”

“It’s okay, I promise. This place tried, and I wanted to believe it. But I didn’t.” 

They both pull back slightly, but Martin brings his hands to Jon’s face, Jon bringing his own to grip Martin’s wrists. Just to confirm they’re both solid. There.

“Martin, if you did, if you wanted to stay here and just escape,” he took a deep breath, closed his eyes, “I would understand.”

Martin shook his head, “No, this place… it makes you dim, distant. It’s not a good comfort.”

“Okay. Okay, good. I just… wanted to make sure you knew what this place was.”

“It’s the Lonely, Jon. It’s… me.”

Jon released his wrists and grasped his face, made him look in his eyes, “Not anymore.”

Martin hummed, “No, not anymore.” He pressed a soft kiss to the palm of Jon’s hand, then leaned forward to press another to his forehead, his cheek, his lips.

Jon sighed. Comforted, loved. Then he laughed lightly, “You, sir, are never allowed to let go of my hand again. Is that understood?”

Martin chuckled in response, pressing another kiss to Jon’s forehead, “Sir, yes sir.”

The aforementioned hand found Jon’s, fingers woven tightly together. They began walking, finding their way back to the impossibly steep steps, and once they were safe outside, Martin stopped, the anchor of his hand pulling Jon back.

“Jon, I… wanted to say I… hm…” he cleared his throat, mustered the courage, “Jon, I love you.”

Jon’s face relaxed, fond, and moved further into Martin’s space, “Oh, dear heart, I love you.”

“Thank you…” Martin whispered, and Jon knew what it meant without having to try. _Thank you for finding me. Thank you for loving me. Thank you for waiting to hear me say it._

“Come on. Let’s keep going.”

And so they did, neither one of them turning to look behind them.

**Author's Note:**

> *fabric rustles*


End file.
